


we never say hello

by nowrunalong



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Clara and Martha run into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we never say hello

The first time Clara sees Martha, she's sitting on a bench outside the medical sciences building. She’s rarely in this part of the campus, but she’s meeting a friend here for lunch.

Clara glances at her watch. 12:33. Nina’s late.

She looks up when she hears footsteps pounding up the stairs, followed by a crash and the sound of cursing.

“ _Damn it._ ”

The source of the crash is a short black girl in a red leather jacket. On the ground where she’d fallen, the girl inspects her hands: they’re scraped. She’d landed on her hands and knees. She curses again.

Her open-top bag had fallen from her shoulder and the contents had spilled out onto the cement in front of her. Getting up from the bench, Clara kneels down next to her and begins to gather the loose papers into a pile. The other girl looks at her gratefully.

“Thank you. I can’t believe I tripped like that! I was only running because I’m late for lab. Had some stuff I had to deal with at home.”

The girl keeps her voice light and friendly despite that she’s just fallen and injured herself, but Clara can tell that she’s distressed.

“You should get those hands looked at before you go anywhere,” Clara advises.

The girl smiles. “It’s okay. I’ll clean them up and ask my prof if I can nick a couple bandages. Gonna have my hands in gloves this afternoon anyways.”

Clara hands over the stack of papers she’s collected to the other girl, who slides them gingerly back into her bag before standing up.

“Alright, I’ve got to rush off.”

“I’ll get the door for you.”

“Ah, great. Thanks again!” With a pained grin, the girl disappears into the building.

“Who was that?” Nina asks, appearing at Clara’s side.

“No idea!”

— 

The second time Clara sees Martha, she surprises the other girl from behind her in the line in the dining hall.

“How are your hands?”

Martha jumps, turns around and, recognizing Clara, offers her a large smile. 

“All back to normal, thanks. Do you usually sneak up on people like that? I nearly dropped my bag again!”

Clara grins apologetically and picks up two trays, handing one to Martha.

“I hope the chicken curry is better than the chilli."

“Hmm."

They serve themselves and Clara scans the room, finding Nina.

“Want to eat with us?” Clara asks, suddenly. She’s not sure why; she doesn’t know the other girl at all. She likes new people, though, and it feels like the thing to say, in the moment.

“Oh, um. My boyfriend, Tom—he’s saved a spot for me.”

“Alright! I’m Clara, by the way. I’d offer my hand to shake, but I’m holding this tray."

“Martha. It’s good to meet you, Clara.”

They exchange another smile and part ways.

—

The third time, Clara’s working in the library and Martha’s checking out a particularly hefty hardcover science textbook.

Martha doesn’t notice her at first, standing next to the counter; she’s digging through her bag for her student card.

“Didn’t want to buy this one?” Clara asks as she hands it over.

“You again! Clara, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“This book costs three hundred dollars. I could buy so much with three hundred dollars!” Martha makes a face. “Besides, we only need it for one assignment.”

“I would suggest finding it as a PDF online, but I _do_ work in a library.”

Martha laughs.

“Watch that none of the teachers hear you say that.”

Clara makes a show of checking over both of her shoulders before turning back to Martha.

“Hey,” she says, “I’m having a party on Friday. You want to come?”

“Oh, sure!” Martha looks surprised. “I’ve been spending my Fridays studying. Suppose it’d be good to get out.”

Clara writes her address down on a yellow sticky note and Martha sticks it inside her borrowed textbook before heading off with a grin and a little wave.

—

The fourth time, it’s Monday morning and Clara’s reading on a bench outside. Martha passes by and stops when she sees the familiar face.

“I’m sorry I missed your party.”

Clara looks up; Martha seems upset.

“That’s okay! Don’t worry about it. There’ll be plenty of others."

She offers the other girl a smile, but Martha doesn’t smile back.

“You alright?” Clara asks, concerned. “Want to sit down?”

Martha hesitates but agrees; she settles in next to Clara on the bench, leans forwards, and looks at her feet.

“What’s wrong?”

Martha shrugs.

“I broke up with Tom. He wasn’t—we weren’t—it wasn’t quite working.”

“I’m sorry,” Clara says, and brings her hand up to rest it on Martha's back reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it? I know we barely know each other, but—I’d listen. If you want.”

“Thanks,” Martha says. She tries to smile. “But that’s about it, really.”

They sit in a companionable silence for a few minutes til Clara has an idea.

“You know what? We should go get coffee.”

“Oh,” Martha says. Her shoulders slump further. “I forgot to bring my wallet today.”

“My treat! You need something to take your mind off him.”

“Are you sure?”

Martha lifts her head, eyes meeting Clara’s.

“'Course I’m sure.”

Clara stands up and offers Martha her hand, helping her up off the bench before letting go again.

Two hours later, they’re still sitting across from one another in the coffee shop, talking about exes and anything and everything else.

—

The fifth time isn’t an accident at all.

Martha knocks on Clara’s door, school bag in her left hand. She stows the yellow sticky with the address in her pocket. They’d decided to get together and review each other’s papers; just because they were in different programs didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be able to help each other, Martha had reasoned.

No one answers. 

She waits a couple minutes and knocks again.

At last, Clara throws open the door. She’s just got a towel on, wet and tangled hair falling over her bare shoulders, and Martha is so surprised that she actually lets go of the bag she’s holding onto. (What _is_ it about Clara’s presence that makes her do this? She isn’t normally so clumsy. She's a doctor, for Pete's sake. She can’t afford to be anything less than careful.) It falls to the ground with a dull thud, contents spilling out over Clara’s doorstep.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Martha says.

“No, I’m sorry! I’m the one that made you wait! How long have you been here?”

“Just a few minutes.”

Martha kneels down to pick up her bag. 

“I’d offer to help you,” Clara says, apologetic, “but I’m—”. She gestures at her lack of outfit with one hand rather than finishing her sentence.

“That’s fine,” Martha says. “You go get dressed; I’ll deal with this.”

“Okay—thanks Martha." Clara grins. “Kitchen’s to your left—I’ve got a pot of tea out, if you like. Might still be hot.”

—

They’re sitting side-by-side on the couch when Nina phones with some questions for Clara about their English paper.

Next to her, Martha laughs at something on the television: they’d turned it on for background noise at first, but had ended up spending more time watching telly—with a bowl of popcorn, even—than they did reviewing their work.

“Who’s that?” Nina asks, from the other end.

Clara looks at the girl beside her; her face, her hair, her purple tank top: she’s gorgeous, and smart, and kind, and it’s already hard for Clara to imagine a time she didn’t know her.

“That's my friend, Doctor Martha Jones.”


End file.
